


Gratification

by SailorChibi



Series: addiction verse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Baby Tony, Bathing, Caregiver Steve Rogers, Carrying, Crying, Cuddling, Daddy Steve, Diapers, Domestic Avengers, Dubious Consent, Feeding, Infantilism, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Stockholm Syndrome, Subtle Manipulation, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Toying with emotions, and he'll do whatever it takes to make tony want it, and to make tony accept it, being treated like a baby, bottles, completely ignores civil war and anything beyond, double agent bucky barnes, forced non sexual age play, he can't handle it anymore, injured Tony Stark, little Tony Stark, non sexual age play, non sexual infantilism, potentially/arguably, rides the thin line between consent and dubious consent, steve doesn't take no for an answer, steve knows what tony really wants, steve rogers taking over the world, the avengers are helping him to do it, tony stark has had the world on his shoulders for too long, tony stark in diapers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23583790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: Now that Steve finally has Tony where he wants him, he's going to love Tony like Tony needs whether Tony wants it or not.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: addiction verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697623
Comments: 64
Kudos: 635





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to Craving and pretty much picks up immediately where that fic leaves off, so you should read that fic first.

At some point, Tony's eyes drifted shut as exhaustion began to catch up with him. He hadn't really slept much since coming out of the hospital, depending on who you asked. It had sure seemed like he spent a lot of time in bed asleep, but Pepper had pointed out that there was a difference between sleeping and passing out because your body was at a physical limit. She probably had a point, but honestly Tony hadn't had time for the luxury of sleep. Just the thought of what his email inbox looked like now that the announcement had been made was enough to make his breath catch with anxiety.

"You'll have to wake up him for his bottle," Bruce said, his voice distant.

"I will, but it doesn't hurt to let him rest a little while Bucky finishes up," Steve said.

"No, it doesn't. I haven't seen bags that deep under someone's eyes in - actually, I don't think I've _ever_ seen bags that bad. You're really going to have to stay on top of this, Steve. Tony's put himself through a lot over the last couple of years. His body is close to giving out."

"I won't let that happen," Steve said firmly.

Bruce sighed. "I know you won't. But something like an infection could take Tony down and out before we even realize what's happening. He's really weak right now." That was followed by a light touch to Tony's right knee, which didn't hurt but did make Tony shiver. He suddenly became conscious of the fact that it was chilly in the room, and he was wearing nothing more than a diaper and some bandages.

"Oh shit, he's freezing," Steve said. "Bruce, help me get him dressed, would you?"

"Sure, but I don't recommend a onesie right now. It's going to be too hard to get him in and out of it, and you want to avoid aggravating his injuries as much as you can. I'll be right back." There was a shuffling sound followed by footsteps as Bruce left the room.

"Here, Tony." Something light but warm was draped over Tony. The material was soft enough that it didn't drag against the bandages the way that the hospital sheets had. Tony shivered again, then swallowed at the sharp bite of pain through his ribs. He tried his best to go limp under the blanket, breathing through the pain as best that he could. It was so hard when literally everything he did made his body ache from head to toe.

"Try this." Bruce returned, and Tony pried open an eye to see that Bruce was holding a grey t-shirt with a picture of Iron Man on the front of it. Judging by the size, it had to belong to Steve. 

"I'll hold him up. You get him into the shirt," Steve said, stepping behind Tony. He gently slid his hands under Tony's body and helped Tony to sit up. Tony bit back a cry as another jolt of pain shot through his ribs, followed by another one from his side as the stitches were pulled. God it _hurt_. He had been out of the hospital for about a week and a half now, but the pain seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

"Here you go," Bruce said softly, pulling the fabric over Tony's head. Tony was able to slide one arm through the sleeve with no problem, but his other arm _throbbed_ when he lifted it too high. He couldn't help the whimper that slipped out as he doubled over, which of course just made his ribs hurt even more.

"Hey, hey. It's okay," Steve said, gently gripping Tony's arm to make him stop moving. "Bruce will bring it to you."

"Just stay still, Tony," Bruce said, carefully sliding the shirt over Tony's arm. When it was on, Tony realized that it was much too big. The neckline hung over one of his shoulders, threatening to slide down, and the hem was long enough to hang down to his thighs. It probably made him look stupid, like a little kid wearing his dad's clothes to dress up, but Tony consoled himself with the realization that at least it hid the fact that he was wearing a diaper.

"There, that's better. Bruce, find Bucky and see what's taking him so long, would you?" Steve said, brushing his hand through Tony's hair. But no sooner had Steve spoken then the door opened again, and Bucky arrived, holding a bottle in his hands. A baby bottle this time, not a water bottle. Tony stared at the bottle and belatedly realized how very stupid he had been. He remembered thinking at the time that having a water bottle with a spout wasn't a good idea, because it was so similar to the baby bottles that Steve used to give him. Now, he realized that Bucky had done that on purpose. That asshole.

"Hey kiddo," Bucky said, completely unphased by the sight of Tony. He tossed the bottle to Steve, who caught it with ease, and added, "I put in what you told me to, Bruce. One dosage of painkillers and one dosage of the antibiotics."

"Good," Bruce said. "Make sure he drinks it all Steve. Then he should go down for at least a two-hour nap. I'll come check his temperature when he wakes up."

"Thanks Bruce," Steve called, setting the bottle down. "And thanks, Buck."

"No problem," Bucky said, lounging against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "How is he?"

"Tired and in pain," Steve replied. He picked Tony up, and again Tony found himself sinking his teeth into his lip in an effort to hold back a moan of pain. No matter how gentle Steve was trying to be, it hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears.

"What the hell are you doing, punk?" Bucky said when Steve took a step.

"I was going to grab his wolf."

"Sit down. I'll get it," Bucky said, sounding totally exasperated.

Tony kept his eyes closed until Steve had sat down and he was laying across Steve's lap, his upper body supported by one of Steve's arms. The gently reclined position helped a lot, taking the stress of his ribs and side but still enabling him to breathe better than he would've ben able to had he been laying down. But it still took the pain a few agonizingly long moments to ebb. In that timeframe, the blanket was draped over Tony again and very carefully tucked in around his legs. Something soft was settled into the curve of his good arm - the wolf, he realized - and then rubber brushed against his lips. Automatically, he opened his mouth.

"Good boy," Steve praised softly, sliding the nipple into Tony's mouth. "Drink it all, sweetpea. It'll make you feel a lot better."

There was no question of being able to say no. Tony sucked obediently, closing his eyes as the taste of warm milk washed across his tongue. Though he wouldn't be able to admit it out loud just yet, it was a taste that he had sorely missed. There was just something innately comforting about it, especially when chewing was still kind of painful and often made the lingering headaches worse. Swallowing, on the other hand, was easy. He sucked and swallowed and sucked some more until there the bottle was empty, and it was pulled away.

But no sooner had Tony opened his mouth to protest than a pacifier was pushed into his mouth instead. Tony scowled but didn't bother to spit it out, knowing that Steve would only give it back to him as many times as it took. Now that he was no longer preoccupied with drinking the bottle, he saw that Bucky was gone and that meant he and Steve were alone. The lack of an audience made Tony feel a little more at ease. That, plus the fact that the painkillers were kicking in and rapidly taking the edge off, meant that his exhaustion was creeping up on him.

"Better, yeah?" Steve asked, looking down at him with such a tender expression that it took Tony's breath away. He felt incapable of doing anything but staring back, wanting to memorize that look so that he would never forget it.

After all, only days ago he'd thought he had lost Steve's affection forever.

"You should go to sleep now," Steve went on, his voice soft. Slowly and carefully, he stood up and brought Tony's body with him. He walked over to the crib and set Tony down on the mattress. As it turned out, the upper half of the mattress was capable of being raised so that Tony wouldn't have to lay flat. He let himself go boneless against it, reveling in how much more comfortable this mattress was compared to the one at the hospital - or even the one at the tower. Because while all of the guest rooms at the tower were designed to be comfortable, they had nothing on the rooms that Tony himself had personally designed. He'd spent thousands of dollars on a custom-made mattress for him and Steve but hadn't been able to bear sleeping on it after Steve went his own way. 

Fingers combed gently through Tony's hair as his eyes slipped shut. A blanket was laid over him and something soft was pressed up against his good arm again - his wolf. Tony grabbed on its tail but lacked the strength to do much more than that. Sleep rose up and rushed over him. He wasn't even awake long enough to see Steve turn on the mobile that hung over the crib and slip out of the room.

Yet Tony knew those things must have happened, because when he opened his eyes again he was alone. He stared up at the mobile that hung over the crib. Some part of him wanted to cry when he realized what the rotating shapes were supposed to represent. There was Captain America's shield, an arrow to represent Hawkeye, a green fist for the Hulk, Mjolnir for Thor, the Black Widow's symbol, Iron Man's helmet, and even War Machine's helmet. He wondered hazily why there wasn't anything for the Vision or for Bucky. Had they been left out on purpose?

As the shapes moved in a slow circle, the mobile played a melody. A familiar melody. His eyes filled with tears as he realized that it was playing a wordless version of Blackbird by the Beatles. It was one of those songs that Steve would always sing to him on the nights that Tony was having a hard time settling down. The sweet sound of Steve's voice combined with a band that Tony had grown up with had always done wonders at putting Tony to sleep. But it wasn't necessarily a typical choice for a mobile, and he knew then for sure that Steve must have commissioned the mobile.

In fact, looking around the room again, Tony knew that Steve had been planning this for a while. He was reminded against of their conversation just before Tony's bath, where Steve had admitted that Tony had played right into his hands. From day one, Steve had been expecting that they would end up here. Tony still couldn't decide if that knowledge frustrated him or if it was something to be admired. For sure, there weren't too many people out there who could honestly say that they had gotten the better of Tony Stark.

"I'm damned lucky Steve wanted me on his side," Tony said under his breath, reaching out with his good arm. He traced the plant pattern that had been carved into the wood and finally deduced that it was a vine of roses, which was one of his favorite flowers. It had also been Maria's favorite flower. He closed his eyes and forbid himself from crying, still tracing the flower petals. How much thought had Steve put into this?

Gradually, a pressing need provided a distraction from the thoughts running through Tony's head. At first he tried to ignore it just by virtue of the fact that the thought of having to get up and drag himself to the bathroom was too much to contemplate. But then he realized that he didn't need to get up. Steve had made sure that he was wearing a diaper before he went down for a nap, and a quick wiggle told Tony that the diaper was still dry. He could just go in the diaper. In fact, he probably should since Steve had made it pretty clear that Tony wouldn't be getting near a bathroom anytime soon.

It had been a long time since Tony had done this. He wasn't even sure he remembered how. He had never dared to put another diaper on after Steve left because he couldn't risk falling into his headspace no matter how many messes it meant that he had to clean up. He had to remind himself that this was why Steve had put the diaper on, and that Steve wouldn't have done that if he hadn't intended for Tony to use it. Despite that, no matter how hard Tony tried he couldn't relax the muscles in his lower body enough to pee. New tears, this time from frustration, welled up in his eyes and he let out a sob.

Almost immediately, Steve was there. It was like magic: he appeared so quickly that Tony just blinked dumbly at him for a stunned moment. Then he realized that Steve must have put a baby monitor or something like that in the room, and Tony had missed it while he was walking around. The sound of him crying must have alerted Steve to the fact that he was awake.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Steve asked softly, reaching down to brush a few tears off of Tony’s cheeks. “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

Tony shook his head. He felt a few twinges when he shifted the wrong way, but the painkillers were clearly still working because it was nothing like the agony he’d been in before. If it weren’t for the growing pain in his bladder, he wouldn’t be feeling that badly at all. But he wasn’t sure he could communicate that to Steve. Opening his mouth and admitting the problem was too embarrassing. He squirmed a little and whined low in the back of his throat.

Understanding dawned on Steve’s face and he leaned against the railing, his fingers trailing down to rest over Tony’s stomach. “You have to pee, don’t you? After drinking that big bottle…” He didn’t seem to need an answer, which was good because Tony wasn’t giving him one.

This part had always been a little humiliating no matter how kind Steve was about, or how much comfort Tony derived from knowing that Steve was all too happy to clean up after him – literally. And it was even worse now that it had been a while since the two of them had age played. Tony pulled his wolf over his face to hide so that he wouldn’t have to look up at Steve’s soft expression.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Steve murmured. “I’m right here. You know I’ll never judge you for this. It’s something that you need. You told me yourself that age play isn’t the same unless you’re using diapers, and I know you well enough to know that hasn’t changed. You can let go. I’ll get you right into a fresh diaper, I promise.”

But Tony couldn’t; he laid there, frozen, until the need grew too great and he couldn’t have run to the bathroom even if he wanted to. An embarrassed whimper slipped out of his mouth as the pressure swelled and broke. The first hot trickle made him cringe, as it was quickly followed by a rush of wetness. Yet as mortifying as it was, knowing that Steve was watching him wet a diaper, it was mingled up with a feeling of satisfaction. Like finally getting a drink of water after being really thirsty. It was _good_.

The tension drained out of his body quickly as he filled his diaper, until Tony was boneless against the mattress with his eyes half-shut. Shallow breaths made his chest rise and fall slowly as he basked in the sensation of an empty bladder and a warm, though cooling, wetness around his groin. That had been the easiest piss he’d had since the fight that brought them here.

“There you go. Good boy. I’m so proud of you,” Steve cooed, unlatching the side of the crib and pulling it down. It hurt a little when he picked Tony up, but Tony didn’t care. The pain was well worth being able to wrap an arm around Steve’s neck for a hug. He laid his head on Steve’s shoulder, thumb finding its way to his mouth. He felt satisfied, rested and sated, at least until Steve spoke again.

“Come on now, we’ll just change your diaper and then join everyone for breakfast.”


	2. Chapter 2

The diaper change didn’t even phase Tony this time; he was way too worried about what was going to happen next. Part of him wanted to hide away for the foreseeable future, at least until he could get around by himself. The realistic side of him knew that Steve would never go for that. And frankly, the choice wasn’t really up to Tony anymore. He’d known what he was getting himself into by coming here.

“I think we’ll keep you in that shirt for now,” Steve said as he taped the diaper into place, looking Tony over.

“I need pants,” Tony protested as Steve helped him to sit up. The shirt he was wearing was one of Steve’s, so it was long enough to cover the diaper – but not nearly as long as Tony wanted it to be. A pair of jeans, particularly if they were loose, would go a long way towards disguising the fact that he was wearing one.

“Tony, honey, wearing pants was agonizing for you,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look. “The waistband was pressing over the worst of your stitches. I know it was. And no matter what pants you wear, they’re all going to feel like that. You probably won’t be able to wear any until your stitches heal, and that’s a long way off.”

Steve was right and Tony hated it. He’d been in so much discomfort during the press conference that the waistband digging into his stitches and pressing uncomfortably against his hip had been one pain amongst many, so he hadn’t paid it too close attention. But there was no way that Steve was going to let him be in more pain than was necessary. Tony couldn’t even argue for a onesie right now, because just getting the t-shirt on had been painful what with his broken ribs and dislocated arm. He was really a mess right now.

“Oh, don’t cry. It’s okay,” Steve said quickly. “Tony, I told you. None of them care. They all know, and they’ve all had time to get used to the idea. It’s just us, okay? Just your family.” He stepped around the table so that he could bend down, pressing his forehead to Tony’s. “We’re here to love you and support you.”

Tony heard the words, and knew that logically they made sense, but it was very difficult to wrap his head around it. There had been a few brief, shining months where he, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Bruce and Thor had lived beneath one roof and everything had seemed good… but nothing, as Tony had quickly learned, lasted for long. One by one, they had all left him behind – Thor literally, after he’d departed from the Earth to return to Asgard and tend to family issues for a while.

And then he’d lost JARVIS, which had hurt most of all. He had gained the Vision in the process, but it really wasn’t a worthwhile trade. Vision was so new to the world, so uncertain about his place, and still learning in many ways. He couldn’t really be a support for anyone, and he needed more help than Tony could give. The best Tony had been able to do was get Vision away from Wanda Maximoff as quickly as possible.

Then there was Bucky, who Tony was still conflicted over. He’d just been getting used to the idea of having Bucky around, and maybe even joining the Avengers, when all of this happened. The realization that Bucky was essentially Steve’s spy was a slap to the face and a huge breach of Tony’s burgeoning trust. Because in the end Bucky had been there to help, and he _had_ helped, but he’d also been manipulating Tony and lying to him. Those things were hard to reconcile.

In the end, Tony gave in because he didn’t really have a choice. He remained quiet and allowed Steve to carefully lift him up off the change table, though he scowled when Steve set him back down in the wheelchair. It had not escaped his notice that the wheelchair must have been custom-made, because the design was a little too reminiscent of a stroller for Tony’s tastes. Steve caught the look on his face and chuckled.

“I know you don’t like it, but it’s the best thing for you. Even if I’m carrying you, there’s a chance I could trip and drop you,” Steve told him, fastening the strap across Tony’s midsection. Tony couldn’t help noticing that the strap, annoying as it was, had been carefully placed so as not to aggravate any of his injuries. It would only hurt if he tried to struggle or escape without the strap being undone first.

He wasn’t close enough to his headspace for this.

“You wouldn’t drop me,” Tony muttered, glaring down at the strap, and felt Steve’s hand gently stroking his hair a moment later.

“I would do everything in my power to make sure that didn’t happen, but it still could,” Steve said softly, moving behind the wheelchair. He grasped the handles and started to push.

For the first time, Tony got a good look at where they were without being half-blinded from pain. Whoever Steve’s interior decorator was, they were very good at their job because there was no way that Steve had been the one to pick out such nice furnishings. The floors were all dark hardwood, the walls were painted subtle colors, and all the paintings and other decorations looked expensive but not trashy. It was a place that Pepper would’ve approved of.

And then they got to what was clearly the living room, and there Tony saw the signs of the Avengers. This room was filled with huge, plush, comfortable-looking furniture, including two couches and several easy chairs and even some bean bag chairs. A huge television took up most of one wall, with an assortment of video game consoles and an enormous collection of games underneath. There was even a mini fridge in the corner of the room and a cabinet that was probably well-stocked with junk food.

Tony took all of it in as a cold, hard lump formed in his throat. While he had been toiling away, _struggling_ , the rest of his so-called team had been here. Chilling out. Playing video games. Eating junk food. Living the high life. While Tony was working twenty-hour days and running from meeting to meeting like a chicken with his head cut off. It wasn’t fair. 

Why did it always turn out like this?

“Tony?” Steve said, looking down at him. He’d always had an uncanny sixth sense for when something was wrong, but right then Tony was so mad that Steve Rogers was the _last_ person he wanted to see. Especially when he contemplated the fact that Steve had deliberately manipulated things so that Tony would be the one fighting against him. Steve had put him in that position.

“Get away from me,” Tony said through gritted teeth.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Tony –”

“Get away from me! I hate you!” Tony didn’t mean to yell, but it came out much louder than he’d intended. If there had been anything within throwing distance, he would’ve chucked it at Steve’s stupid face.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Steve said, reaching out to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“GET AWAY!” Tony shrieked, slamming his free hand down on the arm of the wheelchair, but Steve’s frown deepened, and he backed away. Tony continued to glare at him, and finally Steve went through another door a few feet away that must have led to the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Clint’s voice asked.

“I think it’s all a little much for him. He’s having a tantrum,” Steve said. “I’ll give him a minute.”

Tony gritted his teeth against the shaky feelings working their way up his chest. Tears burned at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall – even though all he wanted to do was having a good cry at the pure injustice of the world. He had always known that nothing about his life was fair or even right but seeing the proof of it at hand was a much harder pill to swallow than he’d expected.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on controlling his breathing, because heaving gulps for air made his ribs burn, but that was easier said than done. He was _so mad_ at Steve and everyone else right now that it felt like it was consuming him, especially since he wasn’t even sure he had the right to be mad. Steve hadn’t forced him to try and fight against the inevitable all those months. The invitation to join Steve had always been open to Tony; it was Tony’s sense of justice and pure stubbornness that had prevented him from doing so before now.

“Antoshka?”

His eyes flew open to find that Natasha had slipped into the room. She looked different. Her hair had been blond and short when Tony had glimpsed during the battle, but now it fell in soft, shining red waves to her hips. She must have been wearing a wig before, he belatedly realized. The hairstyle suited her, making her face less hard. Of course, the smile she was wearing probably helped.

“I know this is hard,” Natasha said softly, crouching down in front of him so that he didn’t have to crane his neck to look up at her. “You’re mad at Steve… and you have every right to be.”

That made Tony pause, blinking. “I… I do?” he said uncertainly. He’d fully expected to be told that he was being stupid because Steve had done everything for the greater good, and that everything had worked out, so it was all fine now. Natasha’s comment was throwing him off guard.

“Yeah, you do. I told that idiot that he should contact you months ago, but Steve was adamant that it had to be your decision. He never wanted to force you into anything, and now look what’s happened…” She sighed and set her hand atop Tony’s, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. 

It was a gentle, comforting touch, possibly the nicest touch that Natasha had ever given him, and Tony hated himself for the way he immediately lost the fight. His eyes welled up with tears and one spilled over, rolling down his cheek. He couldn’t help it. In the midst of everything, being _heard_ and _understood_ meant more than he could have put into words.

“You’re very tired, aren’t you?” Natasha asked, and her voice was so very kind and gentle that Tony found himself nodding before he could stop himself.

“All of you –” Tony paused, swallowing.

“All of us?” Natasha prompted.

“You were here, and life was – and I was –” Tony wasn’t making any sense and he knew it. Words usually came easily to him, but it was considerably more difficult when he had to say words that _meant_ something. He clenched his hand in frustration.

But somehow, Natasha understood what he was trying to say. "You think things were easy for us," she said, the corners of her lips tugging down into a frown. "Tony... do you think trying to take over the world is _easy_? What a childlike way of thinking."

Tony flushed. "That's not -!"

"We've all been working hard in our own ways. I think that Steve mishandled the situation with you, and I know you've had a hard time, but that's no reason to act this way," Natasha said. It was like her attitude had done a 180 in the span of a few seconds, and Tony realized that he had accidentally offended her. 

Stupid. That was stupid. He shouldn't have said anything. Of course Natasha wouldn't see where he was coming from. She might have had her opinion on how Steve had handled things, but at the end of the day she had still stuck by Steve's side and followed him. She had done everything that Steve had asked her to do - killed everyone that Steve had asked her to kill. And while Tony might have kept that information private, he knew that Natasha had amassed quite a long list of deaths under Steve's orders. However good she might be at it, that was work that would bother her.

Still. She hadn't had anyone manipulating her behind the scenes. She wasn't sitting in a wheelchair, strapped in like a toddler, unable to do anything to help herself...

"Now come on. Clint's just finishing up a nice breakfast," Natasha said, moving around the chair. She grasped the handles and pushed it forward towards the kitchen. Tony looked around wildly, but of course there was no way to stop her. He couldn't even grab the wheels because they were almost entirely covered by steel. He would've had to bend almost double to touch a wheel, and there was no way his injuries would allow them.

Bruce, Steve, Bucky and Clint were all in the kitchen. Only Steve and Bruce turned to look at Tony when he was pushed in. Clint was tending to something in a frying pan on the stove. Every so often, he'd turn to the set of spices beside him to consider them. Bucky's hand would immediately sneak out and try to steal a bit of whatever was in the pan, and every time Clint would slap Bucky's wrist without even looking. Then Bucky would pull his hand back with an offended pout, Clint would add in his chosen spice and stir some more, and then the whole thing would start all over again.

"There he is! Hi Tony," Bruce said, smiling at Tony. Then he turned to Steve. "How was he after his nap, Steve?"

"A little fussy, but that's not surprising," Steve said. He didn't seem upset by what had happened earlier. "Well, you heard the tantrum."

Bruce hummed and turned away, grabbing a couple of small medicine bottles. "He's probably in pain. It's past time for his next dosage."

Tony scowled at that, wanting to protest that he was in pain, but the truth was that he couldn't. It hadn't seemed so bad when he was laying in bed, or even when he being wheeled around, but now that he was sitting still he could feel the burning pains creeping up on him again. The spiteful side of him wanted to refuse anything they offered, but Tony was also smart enough to know that wouldn't be beneficial to anyone. There was no doubt in his mind that Bruce would give him a needle for the pain and antibiotics if he had to.

"Push him over here, Nat," Steve said, indicating the table. Then he took the bottles from Bruce and opened them. Tony lost sight of what he did next because Natasha pushed him forward and his view of Steve was blocked by Bruce.

The table was set for five people, not six. Tony's scowl deepened as Natasha set a tray across his lap. It clicked into place on the wheelchair when she pushed the tray down, and no amount of pushing on Tony's part would make it move. They had effectively turned the wheelchair into a highchair of sorts. 

Steve sat down beside him in a regular chair, and Tony promptly flushed to the roots of his hair when he saw that Steve was holding a bottle of milk. He was half-expecting Steve to push it at him right then - and make no mistake, that bottle would've been chucked across the room - but Steve just set it down on the table. Then, embarrassingly, he picked up a bib and tied it around Tony's neck. Tony immediately reached up to pull it off, but Steve caught his hand and gave him a warning look.

"Don't," Steve said, quietly but firmly. "I really don't want to have to put your mitts on, Tony, but I'll do it."

The mitts. Tony's eyes widened at the mere mention of them. Back when he and Steve had started age playing, Tony had struggled with letting go and letting Steve take care of him. A common piece of advice from age play communities was to use mitts, which would effectively prevent Tony from doing anything without helping. They’d discussed it a few times and then one night Steve came home with mitts which looked like something like thick oven mitts, but which were pale blue with yellow ducklings printed on them.

The mitts had worked in that Tony had quickly grown used to Steve doing everything for him – it was impossible to do anything yourself when you couldn’t even pick up a glass. But Tony hadn't liked wearing them at all. They made him feel unbearably helpless and little, just like a real baby. He couldn't decide if the mitts would be helpful right now or mortifying - or both.

“Alright, breakfast is up,” Clint said, walking over to the table with platters of food. He’d cooked pancakes, scrambled eggs, ham, bacon and toast. Tony’s stomach started growling immediately when he saw all the delicious food. All those months living off take out, followed by over a week of hospital food, were a distant memory.

“Steve, be careful what you give Tony. Rich or greasy food will upset his stomach. He’s on some pretty strong medication,” Bruce said, taking a seat.

“Thanks,” Steve said, spooning some of the scrambled eggs onto his plate. He scooped a little bit up with a spoon and held it in front of Tony’s mouth expectantly.

Tony stared at the food, then at Steve. Somehow, he hadn’t really thought about the fact that he wouldn’t be allowed to feed himself until just then. It made sense, of course, that Steve would want to do it, and this was hardly the first he’d fed Tony, but –

“Do you want me to do the airplane?” Steve asked when Tony didn’t move.

The airplane. Tony’s cheeks grew hot again and he opened his mouth, his stomach twisting with shame. But no one was even looking at him as Steve slid the spoon into his mouth. Natasha was buttering her pancakes with a level of care usually reserved for priceless things, Bruce was putting jam on a piece of toast, and Clint and Bucky were dueling with their forks over one particular piece of bacon. 

Then the taste of the scrambled eggs hit him, and Tony ceased to care who was watching, because they were delicious. Soft and fluffy with just a hint of salt and pepper. He barely even had to chew. His stomach growled again when his mouth was empty, and Tony decided to throw his shame to the wind. He opened his mouth again expectantly. Steve chuckled but thankfully said nothing, scooping up more of the eggs and slipping them into Tony’s mouth. Tony concentrated on the taste of delicious food and tried not to dwell on anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

Things didn’t necessarily get better over the next couple of days, but they didn’t get any worse either. The antibiotics made Tony sleepy, so he spent a lot of the time sleeping and only woke up long enough to eat. Most of the time Steve just gave him a bottle and put him back to bed, but Tony had to join the rest of the team for a meal in the kitchen three more times before Bucky spoke up.

“Can I talk to the kid after we’re done?” he asked, looking at Steve.

“Sure,” Steve said, pulling the fork out of Tony’s mouth and wiping Tony’s cheek. Tony licked his lips of the remaining peach juice and shot Bucky a curious look, but Bucky wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could guess what this was about, but he was a little surprised that Bucky was the one bringing it up.

“Actually, we should speak first,” Bucky said. “Clint, would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Clint said, getting up and grabbing the handles of Tony’s wheelchair. He wheeled Tony out of the kitchen.

“You’re being a dumbass, punk,” Bucky said just as the door swung shut behind them.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve been waiting for that,” Clint said, pushing Tony over to the couch. “Bucky’s been on pins and needles… Bruce owes me fifty bucks. I knew Bucky wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut until after midnight tonight.” He gave a satisfied smirk and threw himself down on the couch, stretching his hands over his head.

“I – what?” Tony said, utterly baffled. 

Clint sighed and sat up again, crossing his legs and looking at Tony seriously. “I know the past year has sucked for you, and we’re all sorry about that. Natasha and Steve might not show it, but we all felt terrible for how much stress you were under. Even if I do think it kinda had to be that way, that doesn’t mean what you went through sucked any less.”

Tony stared at him, somewhere between shock and confusion.

“Natasha told me about your conversation with her. She didn’t exactly handle that well.” Clint made a face. “Nat is… well, she’s struggling a little, but she shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I get the feeling that you’re having a hard time with this, and it’s not fair for her to make it harder for you.”

“I’m not really sure what to say to that,” Tony said carefully, fiddling with the hem of the shirt he was wearing. He was terribly conscious of the fact that he was only wearing one of Steve’s shirts over his diaper. He had to stop himself from pulling the shirt down further, which would only draw Clint’s attention to his lower half.

“That’s okay, I didn’t say it with the expectation that you would say anything back, if that makes sense. I just wanted you to know that I called Natasha out for what she said. It’s not cool. And none of us are bothered by… this.” He waved a hand to indicate Tony’s current state. “Actually, when Natasha first brought it up, I thought it sounded pretty cool. It must be nice to just let go and not have to worry about anything.”

“It is, but I haven’t had that for a long time,” Tony said quietly, looking away. That was one of the things he had missed the most about Steve, after all. All those months he’d been struggling along by himself, he had dreamt of how nice it would be to have Steve walk in and take control over everything. Yet now that that had happened, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“But you have it now,” Clint said, and Tony looked back at him. “Right?” He smiled.

“I guess?” Tony said. Clint was right, sort of, but – “It’s not the same.”

“Well, maybe you guys just need to get back in sync. You’ve been apart for a while and that’s hard,” Clint said knowingly. “Plus, you’ve both changed. If this isn’t what you want anymore, I’m sure we could talk to Steve and –”

“No!” Tony cried, much louder than he had intended. As awkward and frustrated as he felt, the thought of leaving was horrible. He couldn’t bear things going back to the way they were when the weight of the world was on his shoulders and no one was ever happy no matter what he did. His breathing quickened as his mind filled with visions of endless meetings, long nights, and worsening nightmares.

“Whoa, hey, Tony –” Clint leaned forward, looking worried. The kitchen door flew open and Steve and Bucky rushed out.

Tony’s stomach clenched when he saw Steve, and without thinking he reached out with both arms. Pain shot through his ribs and his arm and he whimpered, doubling over. It _hurt_ , but then Steve was there, crouching down in front of him and setting his hands on Tony’s shoulders. He gently pushed Tony into an upright position to ease the strain on Tony’s ribs, then leaned up and let Tony wrap his arm around Steve’s neck in a desperate hug. Tony clung to him, shaking.

“What the hell, Clint?” Bucky said.

“I didn’t mean to!” Clint said, panicked. “I just said that he didn’t have to stay here or – or be like this if he didn’t want to and he freaked out.”

Bucky sighed loudly. “Of course he did, you asshole! You guys really have no idea what it’s like to be the guy that everyone else steps on. Tony did a damned good job holding out for as long as he did, but it was impossible. People were pissed that he wasn’t stopping Steve, people were pissed at him because the rest of the world was giving in, people were pissed that he wasn’t doing enough, people were pissed with the way he fucking _breathed_. Every time he dared to take a break, someone would shit all over him for it. You guys were here in your cushy house working together; Tony was alone. He had _nothing_.”

“Um – wow – shit,” Clint said awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Tony. I really didn’t mean it like that. I just… we want you to be happy, that’s all.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to respond, instead burying his face in Steve’s shoulder and shaking from head to toe. This was hard, and the reality of it was different from what he had thought it would be, but then again that was always the way it went. He didn’t even know what he wanted anymore, but he knew that he _couldn’t_ leave. That would be the end of him if it was. The stress alone would give him a heart attack, to say nothing of the fact that the next battle Iron Man went into would probably be his last without appropriate back-up. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” Steve murmured over and over again, his hands warm and steady as he rubbed Tony’s back. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? No one is going to make you go, Tony, I promise.”

Those words settled deeply into the back of Tony’s head, more comforting than they should have been. He kept his grip tight when Steve would have leaned away, and a moment later felt the restraining belt over his waist come loose. Steve picked him up – gently, but it still hurt – and sat down on the couch, carefully arranging Tony in his lap. Tony leaned into him, still shaking.

He didn’t know how long they sat like that before someone said his name, and Tony looked up to find Bucky standing there with a bottle of milk in his hand. Bucky handed the bottle to Steve, who pressed the nipple to Tony’s mouth without hesitation. Too tired to feel embarrassed, Tony parted his lips and started to suck on the nipple. The taste of warm milk was comforting.

“Thor’s back,” Bucky said to Steve. “Should I go deal with him?”

“Yeah. Clint too,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a meaningful look that Tony couldn’t fully parse. Bucky nodded and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

Steve readjusted Tony’s position slightly and then started to hum softly, a melody that Tony didn’t recognize but which he found soothing nonetheless. Everything had been awkward and stiff and embarrassing up until now. For the first time since he’d gotten to Steve’s place, Tony let himself relax and just indulge in the feelings of safety, warmth, and comfort. 

“That’s it, baby boy,” Steve murmured, smiling down at him with a tender look. “Drink your milk all up. It’ll make you feel better.”

That meant Bucky had slipped his morning dose of antibiotics and painkillers into the bottle, Tony surmised. He didn’t mind, not if it meant that the tight throb around his chest and lower abdomen was going to be dealt with sooner rather than later. He swallowed his mouthful of milk and pulled off the bottle to lick his lips. Steve tsked lightly and pressed the nipple right back inside just as Bucky and Thor walked into the room.

“Friend Steve!” Thor said happily, and Tony froze.

“Hi Thor,” Steve said, as though there was nothing unusual about the situation.

“It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you I was coming; I didn’t anticipate being able to return to Earth as quickly as I did,” Thor went on. “I understand from Clint that I have much to catch up on.”

“That’s the least of it,” Steve said, a rumble of laughter echoing through his chest. “I’m a little busy right now, Thor. But as soon as Tony goes down for his nap, we can chat, and I’ll fill you in on everything that’s happened since you last visited Earth.”

“Of course, no need to rush. Take your time with the little one,” Thor said, so casually that Tony’s cheeks flushed. He moved over to stand with Bucky by the window, and the two of them started having a quiet conversation. Tony strained to hear what they were saying, but for all that Thor was usually impossibly loud, they were speaking too softly for him to hear.

“I didn’t know Thor was coming back,” Steve said, more to himself than to Tony. He didn’t seem troubled by the unexpected appearance, but Tony knew Steve well enough to recognize the small furrow between Steve’s eyebrows and know what it meant. Thor wasn’t unwelcome, but his presence was throwing a wrench in at least a couple of Steve’s plans.

Selfishly, Tony found himself glad for that. It was nice to know that not everything was going right for Steve. There had been countless setbacks for Tony over the past several months, sometimes to the point where Tony had started to wonder what the point was when it came to trying to plan. Perhaps life hadn’t been as comfortable and cozy for Steve Rogers as he’d always assumed. Taking over the world was an exercise in patience more than anything else: there was a reason that Tony had never even considered it.

He finished his bottle and let his eyes slide shut, not quite sleeping but also not awake. He could hear Steve setting the bottle down, and then his body was lifted up just enough so that Steve could slide out from under him. Steve set him back down and then draped something soft – a blanket – over Tony’s body. Tony heard him walk away, and then a moment later two sets of footsteps left the room.

And then Bucky said, “I know you’re awake.”

With effort, Tony dragged his eyes open. “’Cause you’re so smart,” he mumbled.

Bucky smirked and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “Nah, I’m not smart. Not really. Not like you or Bruce or Stevie.”

Tony begged to differ. “You fooled me for weeks,” he pointed out.

“No offence, but that didn’t have much to do with smarts. You were so exhausted and strung out that I could’ve had a call with Steve right in front of you and I’m not sure you would’ve noticed,” Bucky said dryly. He tapped his foot on the ground restlessly. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” Tony said before he could really think about it and was surprised to find that it was true. “Out of all the ways that people have lied to me, what you did is pretty low on the list. Besides, in all fairness, I never actually _asked_ you if you were working for Steve.” Which had been a grievous oversight on Tony’s part no matter how tired he had been.

“I wasn’t sure you’d see it that way,” Bucky admitted. “Regardless, I did want you to know that I never did anything with the intent to hurt you. I was just there to watch over you and protect you where Stevie couldn’t. I did report back to him, but mostly I said just enough to keep Steve from storming the tower. The only thing worse than what happened would’ve been him forcing his will on you.”

“He manipulated me. You don’t think that’s the same?” Tony asked, curious.

“Not at all. Hydra forced their will on me. I would’ve been _glad_ if they’d just manipulated me,” Bucky said, suddenly somber, eyes intent. “You may’ve been backer into a corner, but in the end the choice you made was still your own.”

Tony sighed. “You would see it that way,” he murmured. Bucky had a point, yet Tony still wasn’t thrilled with how things had been handled. Still, it was too late to do anything about it now. He was here and he had exactly zero intention of leaving even if Steve had been willing to let him go.

“I wanted to see you safe. Steve seemed like the best way to make that happen,” Bucky said.

“Because he wasn’t going to stop,” Tony said softly, remembering many late-night conversations where they’d discussed that very topic. Maybe it was the serum, maybe it was trauma, maybe it was just Steve – maybe it was a combination of all three. Either way, Steve had found what he wanted, and god help anyone who got in his way. It was a little scary to think that Tony had put everything he had into stopping Steve and it hadn’t done a damn bit of difference. He found himself glad that Steve wanted him around and didn’t seem him as a true threat, or worse yet as an enemy.

“No, he wasn’t. And you weren’t gonna stop either. Granted, Hammer moved Steve’s plans up by a long while… He never thought this would happen.” Bucky glanced at the bandages on Tony’s body.

“It was inevitable,” Tony said.

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky said. “So…”

“So?”

“You’re okay? With this?”

Tony found the question funny. “You’re asking now?”

“Well, you seem like you’ve been having a hard time since you got here. I know these idiots aren’t exactly the easiest group to be around,” Bucky said. He sounded tired, and Tony gave him a closer look as a new suspicion formed in the back of his head. He had assumed that Bucky had come to the tower with the sole purpose of spying, but perhaps that wasn’t the case. Maybe Bucky had needed some space from Steve and the others. They could be quite a rambunctious crew when the moment struck them, and it would only be worse with Thor here.

“It’s hard,” Tony said slowly, deciding that Bucky was owed honesty. “I’m… not bitter, exactly, but I get frustrated when I think about how hard it was before. I didn’t have anyone to lean on except for Pepper. Steve had everyone. That bothers me.” 

“Rightfully so,” Bucky agreed. “And the rest?”

“I won’t pretend like it’s easy to be carried around and fed bottles in front of everyone,” Tony said dryly. “But I’ll get used to it. No matter what Steve says it won’t happen overnight…” 

It wouldn’t be fair for anyone to expect it to. Maybe someday, once he and Steve had settled into an easier rhythm, Tony would even grow to like and appreciate that their friends knew. He used to feel pretty stifled locked up on his and Steve’s floor while they age played, after all. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to run around the building whenever he pleased no matter what headspace he was in?

“They’ll get used to it too,” Bucky pointed out, and Tony nodded.

“I know. It’s awkward for everyone even without that… they’re not used to having me here,” he said. “I’m not used to being here. The age play is just an extra level on top of all that. And Steve and I, it’s gonna take a bit for us to click again.” Although based on that comfortable moment when Steve had been giving him a bottle, he thought they’d get there faster than he’d originally guessed.

“But you will,” Bucky said.

“We will,” Tony said, not knowing if he was comforting Bucky or himself by saying it, but at any rate he believed that it was the truth. He was done worrying about things; he was done stressing out; he was done being in control. He didn’t want any of that anymore.

“Good,” Bucky said, his face softening, and stood up. He grabbed the blanket, which had fallen down around Tony’s chest, and pulled it up to Tony’s shoulders.

“Seriously?” Tony said, amused.

“Get used to it, kiddo. You’re the baby of the group now,” Bucky said, but he didn’t say it in a mean or teasing way, softer and strangely affectionate. Tony’s face flushed, but he didn’t say anything else. Bucky just smiled at him and then moved aside, taking a seat in one of the chairs and pulling his phone out. 

So that was how it was going to be, then. Tony pondered that as he glanced at the doorway that Steve had gone through. It would probably be a while until Steve was done talking to Thor – conversations with Thor always took longer than they did with anyone else – and Tony had nothing else to do. It seemed like Bucky was settled in for the long haul, and Tony knew that Bucky wouldn’t leave while he slept so he dared to let his eyes slip shut again. He let himself relax against the couch and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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